


Midday Heat

by ancalime8301



Series: Legacy [4]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fainting, Gen, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-09
Updated: 2003-07-09
Packaged: 2018-06-05 13:53:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6706861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancalime8301/pseuds/ancalime8301
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day is warmer than Frodo can tolerate and Gimli tries to assist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midday Heat

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place the same day as the stream dunking of the earlier ficlet.

The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the traveling party as they plodded single-file along the trail winding its way through the mountains to Helm's Deep. Lunch was eaten on horseback, the narrow passage barely giving clearance for two riders side by side, much less the entire group dismounting and milling about.

Frodo chose to forego lunch, just as he usually skipped breakfast; the heat was making him feel nauseated even longer than usual. The sun seemed to be riding just above his shoulders, soaking him with its scorching rays and drenching him in sweat. And he was wearing his thicker set of clothes, too- his other pair was still soaked from his dunk in the stream that morning, and he wished he were back in the icy stream. Being cold he was used to, but being hot was getting unbearable!

Ironically, this suit of clothes was made for him in Minas Tirith when Aragorn noticed he was always shivering or wearing his coat and insisted he have some warmer clothes to ward off the chill. If only he felt that chill now! Instead, it felt like his clothes were constricting, shrinking in the heat, and slowly suffocating him.

There was a reason he hadn't changed his clothes in days, though he couldn't tell Sam that. He could not explain why he was always feeling warm, and to draw Sam's attention to it would only make matters worse. That information would probably make it back to Gandalf and Aragorn as quick as it took to tell it, and then he would have to try to explain it off to two who weren't as believing of his excuses.

He focused his gaze on Sam's back and tried to keep his eyes from going blurry. Sam was sitting stiffly in his saddle, no doubt still frustrated by his master's insistence that he ride in front of him. But Frodo knew Sam was keeping an eye on him and preferred to avoid that observant gaze at least for a while. So Gimli was behind him, or at least he thought so, but he couldn't risk turning to look for fear he'd slip out of the saddle. He was proving to be tipsy today; he'd nearly fallen trying to get his waterskin from the saddlebag behind him, and was not anxious to repeat the experience.

He gulped some water greedily from the skin, and was dismayed to realize he hadn't much left. They still had a ways to go before stopping for the day, and he wouldn't be able to refill it until then. His stomach lurched as he contemplated going the entire afternoon in this heat with no water. He should've been more careful and rationed himself, but it was too late now. The situation brought to mind uncomfortable memories, which he tried desperately to put out of his thoughts. Mustn't think about that now... But his stomach churned anyway and it took all his effort not to heave.

He hunched uncomfortably in his saddle and wished with all his being that this hellish ride would end...

 

It did not take Sam's eyes to see that Frodo was having trouble. Elrond and Galadriel rode toward the back of the line, Aragorn and Gandalf having gone to the head to lead, and both were concerned by his obvious distress. *Mithrandir, we must halt,* Galadriel urged.

Gandalf conferred quietly with Aragorn, and replied, *The trail widens ahead and comes under a grove of trees, but we are unsure of the distance. Can he hold on a little longer?*

*He must. We have no other choice,* Elrond stated simply. He knew that to stop here where they were so restricted in their movement, and under the high heat of the August day, was only to invite more trouble. But that did not reassure him as he watched the hobbit struggling to master himself.

 

It did not even take elven sight to realize there was a problem. Gimli had kept a close eye on Frodo from the time he'd taken up position behind him, knowing the heat would likely affect him first, being the smallest of the hobbits and, it must be admitted, the weakest. As he watched Frodo hunch over, shaking with the effort of staying upright, he knew something would happen, and soon.

He twisted on his pony -he'd refused to be carried through the land of the horselords again as just a piece of baggage and insisted on riding himself- and caught Legolas' eye as the elf rode behind him. Gimli made a motion toward Frodo and Legolas nodded; he also witnessed the hobbit's discomfort. A few nods and small hand gestures later, Gimli turned back around and nudged his pony closer to Frodo's, beginning to come alongside. The elf had suggested exactly what he had in mind, and he moved into action.

The trail was barely wide enough for two horses to walk abreast; two ponies fit better, though Gimli had to be diligent to avoid having his kneecap scraped off by a stray jut of rock. Painfully slowly he was able to move closer to Frodo, even as the hobbit seemed to wilt further. Finally he came close enough to put one hand on the sweat-soaked back, supporting him as he drew alongside.

 

Frodo drained the rest of his water; no sense in conserving it now. He shakily replaced the stopper and hung the skin from his saddlehorn, then grasping the horn tightly, trying to convince his equilibrium that this was indeed vertical. The world spun around him, and he closed his eyes, the rotating world making his abominable headache even worse. He gasped, still fighting the restraint of his clothing as it tightened into iron bands around his chest. He was startled when he felt a thick, heavy hand upon his back, holding him up. He risked a quick look out of the corner of his eye and saw the Dwarf riding alongside. "Gimli... I..." he gasped before falling into swirling darkness.

 

Gimli had barely moved into position when Frodo spoke and went completely limp. He had to drop his reins completely to catch the insensate hobbit, trusting the implacable mare he rode to continue following in line. With a grunt he pulled Frodo from his pony and set him in his lap instead. Frodo was quite warm and flushed, covered in a sheen of sweat, confirming the Dwarf's suspicions of what ailed him.

The pony now bearing two fell back into line behind the riderless pony as Gimli tried in vain to loosen the hobbit's clothing one-handed, the small buttons foiling every attempt to slip them through their holes. Gimli grunted in frustration as he pulled his glove off with his teeth, meeting slightly better success with his bare fingers, though hobbit clothing was designed for their more slender hands, not the sturdy hands of a Dwarf.

He unbuttoned the top bit of Frodo's shirt and stripped him of his waistcoat -why did hobbits insist on wearing such useless garments?- then squirted some water from his bottle down the hobbit's chest. It had the desired effect, and Frodo's eyes blinked open, confusion and exhaustion in their blue depths. "Here. Drink, Master Hobbit," Gimli ordered gruffly, putting the water to dry lips and not putting it down until he was satisfied with how much Frodo drank.

The water seemed to revive him somewhat, and he struggled to sit up. "What happened?" he asked slowly.

"Sit still. The heat overcame you," Gimli answered shortly as he shifted Frodo's weight and unceremoniously sat him up. "Have you eaten anything?" Frodo shook his head vigorously. "Foolish hobbit," the Dwarf growled as he reached one hand back into his pack and pulled out a piece of lembas. "Eat," he commanded, handing the bread to Frodo, who meekly began nibbling on it.

 

When Gimli began moving forward, Galadriel smiled and shook her head. She had not anticipated his action, but seeing it, realized she should have expected such. Both she and Elrond watched the next events with some concern for Frodo's health, but knew the Dwarf would do all he could for one of his hobbit friends.

 

At long last the group reached the grove of sheltering trees. Frodo had dozed off some time before in the shade of Gimli's body, and did not wake until the pony had come to a halt. He sat up sleepily, rubbing his eyes and yawning, before turning to the Dwarf. "Thank you," he said simply, and Gimli nodded. He understood.

He did not let Frodo get down until Sam came to assist from the ground, catching him as he slid to the ground and leading him to his ready bedroll. Sam also had his other clothes laid out, the heat having quickly dried them during the day's ride. Frodo took them gratefully and went off into the bushes to change, returning to lie down and promptly fall back to sleep.

After Gimli dismounted, he turned around to see Galadriel standing in wait behind him. "Thank you," her melodic voice drifted to his ears alone. "In helping him you have done more than you know." She smiled and he blushed deeply and turned away, muttering something about needing to care for his pony.


End file.
